Rosie

Wendy disappeared one afternoon while on the way back from deliveries. We were talking right up to the time she got off the interstate, somewhere between 20 and 25 minutes from home. Now I guess I should admit that I'm a fretter (if anyone hasn't figured that out by now), so when an hour passed and she wasn't home I started fretting. It's not like I need to know everywhere she goes and how long she'll be there, it's just that she hadn't mentioned anything other than being ready to be home after a long day. So I called - no answer. I called again - still no answer. So I went on about what I was doing, with the usual what-ifs running through my head; low-key, but running just the same.
Not to worry. She came wheeling into the driveway soon enough, and out of the car jumped two long-legged, tail wagging hounds-from-hell puppies. Yeah, hounds. One was black and tan, the other a bloodhound. The kids went crazier than usual, and she gave me that "they followed me home" look. That was three months ago, and Rosie, the black and tan, and Sounder, the bloodhound quickly became part of the farm. Rosie was the alpha, and made every step we made, learning as a pup which pigs needed chasing and which kittens needed chewing on. Sounder was content for the most part to roll and romp with Rosie, help out with the kitten chewing, and learn the deepest, most mournful baying you've ever heard. My initial reluctance lasted no time at all, and I figured we would have good companions for a long time from these two.
Last Wednesday Rosie didn't go with us to feed pigs and milk, which was unusual but not unique. On the way back from the milk barn, though, we saw her down below the springhouse, drooping, drooling, and almost non-responsive. She had been slower than usual the day before, but we didn't think a lot about it. Puppies get into things, and sometimes they pay for it for a day or two. But this morning she was down. I went on to work in Huntsville, and around mid-morning Wendy called and said she had taken Rosie to the vet. I was worried, yes, and to be completely honest a bit reluctant. All I could see for a few moments was a large vet bill. Unfortunately, my experiences with veterinarians have been universally bad. I had never taken an animal to a vet and ended up bringing a live animal home. That's not a knock on the skill or knowledge of vets, that's just been how it's gone for me.
They tested her, medicated her, and kept her overnight for observation. The next morning she was better, then worse again. Wendy and the kids decided they would rather have Rosie home with us than let her spend the 4th of July weekend in a cage in the vet's office. They went to pick her up and got home with her seconds before I came into the driveway from Huntsville. One look at Carleigh's face was all I needed, and I walked over to the truck with dread. They told me Rosie had quit whimpering as soon as Noah walked in, and had settled down in his lap for the ride home. Just before they got home, she took a big sigh, and died quietly.
For the first time in over 20 years I cried when a pet died. I'm not sure if I was crying for Rosie, who had won my heart over completely, or for Noah, who was heartbroken that he had lost his pet, or for Wendy, who loved Rosie as much as Noah, and whose little boy was holding his pet in his lap and sobbing. It was probably for Carleigh, too, whose pet was wagging his tail and not really knowing what was going on while Carleigh cried. It may have been for all the dogs I ever had, and for how I felt when I lost them. I lost pets every way you can think of, and a few more ways besides. And I still remember them all.
We laid her to rest in a shady place. Sounder is already taking over some of Rosie's chores, and he's a good pup, but we sure miss her.